


your hips your lips they're mine

by badskeletonpuns



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Biting, Clubbing, Dancing, Dresses Are For Everyone, Grinding, Juno's Sensitive Skin, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Nureyev's Teeth, but especially grumpy detectives, jupeter, those two things... give you some clue to where this is going
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 16:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8335015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskeletonpuns/pseuds/badskeletonpuns
Summary: Written for the prompt of "jupeter and grinding" by a lovely anon over on tumblr. Features both of those things, as well as such lovely concepts as Nureyev flirting with Juno and Juno maybe even flirting back, Juno in a lovely dress, and lots and lots of kissing and similar pursuits. Definitely a high T rating. Most, most definitely.





	

If anyone had asked (and Juno hadn’t punched them in the face for asking) he would have said that it was a moment in his kitchen late at night, alone with Nureyev and a lack of common sense, when the night got out of control. 

If he was honest, though, it had started way earlier than that. 

It hadn’t started in the club. No, not with Peter Nureyev’s chest against Juno’s back and his hands on Juno’s waist, whispering things into Juno’s ears that made the detective unsure if the warmth on his cheeks was from the alcohol or the fantasy running through his mind. 

It hadn’t even started in the car ride there, Juno staring out of the window in a vain effort to ignore the way his bare shoulders prickled under Nureyev’s gaze and an even vainer effort to ignore the way Nureyev filled out that jacket. The feeling it gave Juno did very dangerous things to his common sense. 

No, it had started a week ago, when Rita took him shopping.

He’d walked out of that trip with a newfound appreciation for life, a reawakened hatred of fluorescent lighting, as well as a deep blue dress that bared his shoulders and neck and teased at the beginning of the tattoo on his back. 

And things had spiralled out from there. The case that week had been frustrating to say the least, a case of mistaken identity spiralling into a theft and back out of it into something Juno wouldn’t have touched with a ten foot pole if he’d known how complicated it was going to get. 

So he’d wanted to blow off some steam, and he had happened to have worked this case with the help of one Peter Nureyev, who said that he knew an excellent place to blow just about anything anyone could want. 

Juno had laughed, and told Nureyev to at least ask him to dinner first. 

(He had  _ not _ practiced that line in his apartment just in case Nureyev had said anything particularly forward and Juno needed a response. That was ridiculous.) 

God, it would be a long time before Juno forgot the way Nureyev had smirked in response and bitten his lip. “Why detective,” he had drawled, “I would be only too pleased.” 

That had gotten them to the cab later that weekend, to how Nureyev had lost whatever witty remark he’d had at the first sight of Juno in that dress and Juno had disguised his similar reaction to Nureyev’s outfit. 

Nureyev had bitten his lip again, and Juno had all but forgotten any reasons he had not to pin Nureyev against that car right now and give him a real good idea of just how  _ frustrated  _ the motion was making Juno. 

But he didn’t. He took a deep breath and thought of Oldtown sewers and disgusting hangover remedies and that time he’d accidentally kissed Mick, and he got into the car. 

The ‘place’ Nureyev had mentioned was a tiny club tucked into an alleyway, with music loud enough to rattle the walls and enough alcohol in the air to get drunk off the smell alone. 

It was perfect. 

Juno had never considered himself an excellent dancer, but it was a good way to work off some tension if you didn't have the time for a good night's sleep or the money for some companionship. And it would be difficult  _ not _ to feel like he was a good dancer when Nureyev had been watching him like that. 

But that? That was nothing compared to having Nureyev actually dance with him. 

Nureyev ran cold to Juno’s heat, and the feeling of his hard lines of muscle pressed against Juno’s back was everything the soft lips against his neck weren't, and Juno didn't want to ever forget either sensation. He tipped his head back, baring his neck to Nureyev’s mouth and trusting the other man to almost entirely support his weight. “God, Nureyev,” he panted, words almost lost to the beat of the music and the low roar of the bodies around them. “I needed this.” 

Nureyev's smirk against his neck was knife-sharp and the words he purred into Juno’s ear were just as dangerous. “Anything you want, darling.” 

Because Juno wanted a whole lot. 

And he was pretty damn sure Nureyev didn’t want anything more than one night. 

Sex was something _ , _ though, something far better than going home alone. And it wasn't like Juno  _ didn't  _ want to take Nureyev home with him. Even if it was just for one night. 

Nureyev murmured something into Juno’s skin, and Juno couldn't hear what but  _ god _ could he feel the buzz of Nureyev’s lips. He shook his head, just slightly, trying and failing to gather the words needed to ask what Nureyev had just said. 

Then Nureyev was biting his neck and Juno was incoherent, reduced to sounds obscene enough to get them thrown out if a bouncer noticed.

It didn't come to that, luckily. Nureyev pulled away from Juno (Juno did _not_ make any sort of wrecked whine at the loss of contact, and if anyone in that club said otherwise they were lying liars who lied). He grabbed the detective’s wrist, drawing him towards a side exit. “Come along, detective,” he said, and Juno could hear the arousal rough in his voice. 

Juno did more than let Nureyev tug him towards the exit, he pulled ahead of the other man and led both of them out of the exit and into an alleyway maroon in the fading light and years of Martian dust caked into it. 

The door shut behind them, and the music quieted to dull rumble behind the brickwork. 

Juno pushed Nureyev in front of him, shoving the thief up against the wall. “I think,” he breathed, “it’s your turn to fall apart.” 

Nureyev almost choked, Juno could see it in his face; the professional conman finally losing his mask. “Juno-” he whispered, and then shook his head, unable to say anything else. “Juno,” was all he could get out, the name hushed and desperate. 

It was unfairly sexy. 

Juno grinned, hoping that it would have the same effect on Nureyev that Nureyev’s grin had on him. He took his time kneeling in front of Nureyev, getting his hands on him. Nureyev was almost trembling, one hand tight on Juno’s neck and the other wound into Juno’s hair. Slow and steady, Juno untucked the other man’s shirt and kissed the side of Nureyev’s hip, bared by his low-slung pants.

Nureyev’s hand tightened in Juno’s hair and pulled his head back till their eyes met. The hand on Juno’s neck came up to settle on his cheek, cupping his face. “Are,” Nureyev swallowed. “Are you sure about this, Juno? If you don’t-” Juno turned his face into Nureyev’s palm, pressed a kiss to the soft skin there. 

“Trust me,” he said, hearing the raggedness in his voice and too focused on Nureyev to try and sound more presentable. “I’m sure.” 

Juno literally had both hands on the waistband of Nureyev’s pants when the door opened and he froze. He couldn’t see the other person from his current vantage point, and with Nureyev’s hands on him like that couldn’t really turn his head. Not without pulling away, which was the last possible course of action. 

There was the click of a lighter and the stink of cigarette smoke. Juno sighed and let his head tip forward till it rested on Nureyev’s thigh. Above him, Nureyev’s breath hitched. 

Nureyev coughed politely. “Do you mind?” he asked, and Juno couldn’t  _ see  _ him but he could picture his expression, teeth gritted and still flushed all down his neck. “We are a little busy.”

“I’ll say,” Juno muttered, unheard but definitely felt, if the way Nureyev tensed under him was any indication. 

“Really quite busy,” Nureyev continued. “If you could smoke elsewhere, per-”   
  
The person sighed. “Look, buddy, it’s a free planet. You wanna get some in an alleyway, I ain’t gonna judge ya. But I wanna smoke my cigarette in this alley, and if you have a problem with that, it ain’t my problem.” 

Juno sighed, and sat back on his knees away from Nureyev, who was looking more than a little put out. “Let’s get out of here.” 

Nureyev pouted, but willingly reached forward to pull Juno onto his feet. 

The ensuing cab ride back to Juno’s apartment was quite possibly the most awkward ride of his life, beating the previous most awkward ride by sole virtue of Nureyev’s hand on Juno’s leg - not grabbing, not stroking, just set there. Subtly. 

The streetlights cast stark shadows across Nureyev’s face, illuminating glimpses of his dark eyes and high cheekbones and the smooth curve of his lips. Juno couldn’t take his eyes off of him.

In front of them, the cabby coughed loudly and turned up the music. 

Right. There was another person in the vehicle. That was why they weren’t doing any one of the things running through Juno’s mind that he’d like to do to Nureyev. Or have Nureyev do to him. Juno wasn’t picky. 

He shifted slightly, uncomfortable in the confined seats of the cab. Uncomfortable not touching Nureyev, unable to revel in the feeling of those hands tugging on his dress, or of getting his own hands on Nureyev in return. 

This was going to be a hell of a long ride. 

They  _ did  _ make it to Juno’s apartment without scarring the cab driver for life. Barely. Juno was fairly certain that the trip had been at least an hour longer than usual. 

And then they were there. Home. 

The streetlight closest to Juno’s apartment block was shattered, leaving broken glass on the street that reflected the faint light of the next-nearest streetlight. The effect was a gentle shimmer of light across the pavement, sharp enough to cut but pretty enough that if you were drunk you wouldn’t even realize the danger.

Not that Juno or Nureyev were in any shape to notice the danger or the beauty of the glass, as they could not keep their hands off of each other long enough to get into Juno’s building. Nureyev had wasted no time pushing Juno up against the door, both hands on Juno’s thighs and lifting him till neither of his feet touched the ground. “Do you have any idea how you look in that dress?” he growled, lips wet and hot on Juno’s skin and it took all Juno’s strength to get out a response. 

“I might have-” he panted, “-some idea,” and he rocked his hips against Nureyev’s, making the thief stagger back away from the door and clutch Juno tighter. 

“We should maybe -  _ Juno, oh, darling -  _ go inside,” Nureyev suggested. 

Juno just hummed noncommittally, far more focused on what he was doing with his hands under Nureyev’s shirt and his mouth following the line of Nureyev’s jaw. 

“I am going to drop you if you don’t get us inside,” Nureyev threatened, but his voice was too husky to give the threat any real force. He shifted Juno in his arms slightly and took the opportunity to pinch the detective somewhere personal. Juno yelped, pulling his head back far enough to meet Nureyev’s eyes with a glare. 

“Watch it, Nureyev.” 

Nureyev smirked. “Why, detective, I have no idea what you mean!” He pinched Juno again. Juno was trying to keep up the glare, he really was, but something like a smile kept steadily creeping onto his face. 

He gave up trying with a sigh and a reluctant grin, let his head fall forward till it rested on Nureyev’s shoulder. “You’re the worst.” 

“And that’s just why you can’t stay away from me,” Nureyev said airly, fishing Juno’s keycard out of where it had been tucked into his shoes (there was no way it could have fit anywhere else in that dress, Nureyev had correctly presumed). Without warning Juno, he lifted the other man up over his shoulder so he could hold him steady with one hand and let them into the building.   
  
“Peter Nureyev, I am going to murder you and no one will  _ ever  _ find the body! I feel like a goddamned sack of potatoes!” 

“Rest assured, love, you are far more attractive than that,” Nureyev laughed. He turned his head as if to kiss the expanse of thigh bared by the way Juno’s dress was pushed up high, but stopped and smirked before biting him instead. It was gentle, his teeth barely grazing Juno’s skin. 

Juno went silent for a moment. “Peter,” he breathed, and he sounded  _ wrecked _ , “if you do not get into my apartment in the next ten seconds I will not be responsible for the state of this hallway when we’re done.  _ Hurry the hell up. _ ”

He didn’t have to say it twice. 

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment if you had to stop reading to catch your breath/fan yourself/get a drink of cold water :P   
> seriously though, if you enjoyed please leave a comment! i love to hear from y'all - also feel free to message me on tumblr [here!](http://wendy-comet.tumblr.com/)


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